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Rich’s Note: Generally it was warm in South Vietnam. Oh, it cooled off a
bit during the monsoons, but most days were warm and clear. A lot of days
were downright hot. I hadn’t been there long before I trekked over to the PX
and bought an oscillating fan. The fan became a tremendous comfort to me in
the room in my hootch. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I pretended it was
a breeze from home as I slid into dreamless sleep where I woke often at
unfamiliar and frightening sounds. The fan itself was a curiosity. Keep in
mind that this was the late 60’s. I was amazed that my new fan had
translucent blue plastic blades. Our fans at home had metal blades. (By the
time I got home, most fans had plastic blades.) I set up my fan on a shelf
across from my bunk and kept it running non-stop. The rats who nightly
searched the shelf for goodies ignored the fan, wondering where I’d hid the
cans of peanuts with the plastic lids they had learned to chew through. I
have a ceiling fan in my bedroom now. To this day, I feel like I have to
have a steady stream of air moving over me when I sleep to take the dreams
and blow them away.

To reach Rich, mailto:richr-@erols.com

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When I was a kid we used to “flip” baseball cards and chew bubble gum. The
game rules of “flipping” were simple: flip your selected baseball card with
a snapping wrist action and sail them up against a wall from a predetermined
distance. The card closest to the wall “won” the rest of the cards. I was
reminded of this childhood game the other day while visiting a collector’s
flea market, where “rookie” Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Ted Williams, Roger
Maris, Jimmy Piersall, and other priceless baseball cards were displayed in
locked and carefully guarded cases. In the days of flipping baseball cards,
“rookie” issues were expendable warriors, the first to be flipped in battle,
as yet unproven. The hermetically sealed baseball cards I saw in the flea
market’s sterile cases were perfect and without circular scratches or
deformities of any kind. Seems like most of them even lacked fingerprints. I
remembered those same rookie faces spinning towards a brick wall, some with
broken corners that slid up easily a few millimeters closer, or brand new
hard ones that smelled like fresh bubble gum and were great for knocking
down “leaners”. Eventually mine were stored in shoeboxes, packed full of
faces that one day disappeared in the process of growing up.

You can reach Simply Tim at mailto:tl-@clark.net . Please use story’s title
in the subject area.

Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Mack, when are you coming back?
Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Mack, when are you coming back?
My arms are missing you, my lips feel the same way too
I tried so hard to be true, like I promised I'd do
But this boy keeps coming around, he's trying to wear my resistance down
Chorus:
Hey Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Mack, when are you coming back
Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Mack, when are you coming back
He calls me on the phone, about three times a day
Now my heart's just listening to what he has to say
But this loneliness that I have within keeps reaching out to be his friend
chorus
Need your loving, need your loving
(Instrumental break)
I wanna say, I'm not getting any stronger, I can't hold out very much longer
Trying hard to be true, but Jimmy, he talks just as sweet as you
chorus
Need your loving, need your loving
Need your loving, need your loving...
(Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Mack, when are you coming back) (repeats out)...

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